Category: Depression

How does one tie a rope around his head, and escape from the world of living, by jumping from a chair?

I can’t wrap my mind around this. Literally.

Whenever I hear of someone who decides to end his life in this matter, I envision myself in his place.

Standing on a chair, securing the rope…

Heaving, as a shaky chair underneath holds trembling legs that go back and forth in fear, a little farther each time, before jumping from a short ledge to its drop from life.

How does one like Robin Williams (and the many other unrecognizable ones) get to this place of desperation?

This is not an easy way out of life.

And, may I suggest, there is not an easy answer to all-encompass every individual.

Oh, we who are not on the chair can offer unsolicited advice on the problems and explanations of said individuals who are obviously without hope.

But, may I suggest our opinions, without our compassion, only create a tighter noose?

II

I went back and forth whether to write from the depths of my heart. In the end, I thought, what do I have to lose?

My paper-doll image being crumbled?

Actually, what do I have to gain?

Maybe access into a life out there who is desperate. And alone.

Let’s face it, majority of us are not ever going to be in the place of standing on a chair, teetering on the edge, leaning toward death.

Even so, what if we teeter on the edge and lean in toward transparency?

I’d say this lack of vulnerability has created a chokehold of its own on our freedom to be real when real life is crumbling apart.

Tied up in knots on how I should be, I clean off the debris so my attire is no longer disheveled.

Well, enough already.

Choking back tears creates a chokehold around our hearts.

Truth is, I have desired on occasion for the end to come. While I have not stood on a chair, I have felt the grip of despair pull me in.

Surround me with suggestions of suicide.

And, in my momentary weakness, I have felt alone. And entirely too close to the edge of desiring death.

Maybe this is where we get to the end of our rope. When desperation takes hold in a difficult season, and we feel we have nowhere else to turn.

In the moment when we cannot see clearly it is just a momentary trial.

For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal. (2 Corinthians 4:17-18)

We need to wrap our minds around Christ. Literally.

And lean in closer and closer.

Until we free-fall into His embrace.

It is not an easy answer. But, may I suggest, HE is the HOPE we need to take hold of when we are at the end of our rope.

Right about the time Arnold Schwarzenegger was about to lose the battle in one of his blockbuster pictures, these words would fall from his accented lips–

I’ll be back.

Meaning, watch out–he was not finished yet.

I wonder sometimes, will I get back to the person I was before depression sucker-punched me in the gut?

I used to be this bubbly girl, known for her excitement, passion and over-the-top God moments. Always telling a story–always excited about what God was up to–always encouraging–always smiling.

But, a part of the movie of my life has me looking back to lost scenes. Ones deleted from my memory. I am not certain if this was a deliberate decision on my part, or more of a subconscious derailing me from the oncoming collision I was not prepared to encounter.

These short clips have made their way to the surface of my awareness this last year or so.

They are not the kind of scenes I wish to recall.

I would rather they stay gone for good.

But, there comes a time when awareness makes way to acknowledgement.

And acknowledgement slowly gives way to acceptance.

Not acceptance that says this was okay. But, more of accepting the fact that there was some significant trauma I’ve encountered in my early years that continues to hold me down to this day.

I have never correlated the fact that my depression may be in part tied to my past. Most often, I attribute it to just something that is part of me that rises its ugly dark head on occasion and attempts to suck the breath from my joy.

But, I wonder if it is more complex a creature.

A licensed counselor commented during a recent sermon that a majority of cases she counseled for depression were because of swallowed anger.

Often times, the person had no idea that anger was even an issue, let alone the cause.

Until recently, I had no idea I held onto anger. Yet, very slowly I began to seethe at the thought of some specific individuals. Not liking this feeling in the least, I would diffuse this emotion very quickly by replacing it with a smile.

Here I am today with a smile that has faded.

But, no more. I need to deal with this my past. I need to feel the hurt and pain. So, I can get through it.

My hope is this heavy hand on my heart will be kicked to the curb in doing so.

And, like Arnold–

I will be back.

Maybe not exactly the same bubbly girl without a care in the world. Because, really, she had a whole lot of concerns she concealed that occasionally bubbled up and over, and brought her down.

But, be back, stronger than ever–ready to flex my jaw muscles again.

My hope is for you out there who also struggle to suffocate your hurts–

Allow them to rise to the surface–so they can be released once and for good.

Sadness permeates into unchartered waters and dissipates my passion. Will passion make her presence in me again?

The crest of excitement’s waves have slowly stilled.

I feel as one who sits in a lukewarm bath entirely too long.

Damp.

I struggle to remedy this stagnancy I feel I’ve created myself.

Just do something already.

Nothing tastes good to the palette of my ambition.

Is it the stagnancy causing my sadness, or is it the other way around?

The bathroom sink was conveniently clogged last night, causing me to focus my attention on her instead of attending Bible study.

I am not a plumber, but the liquid, who calls herself Liquid Plumber, came to the rescue.

I pour the green concoction into the stagnant water with hopes it will unclog whatever ills block its plumbing.

Nothing happens.

Instead, the still water continues to slowly rise–dangerously close to overflow.

I empty it by the cup load to the perfectly-fine sink sitting beside her.

When the miraculous happens. I leave the bathroom for just a minute and return to a completely drained sink.

Apparently, whatever sludge blocked its access moved on, and water was now able to freely flow yet again.

Oh, how I long to become unclogged from this stagnancy.

It is not tragedy which causes this dip in emotional stability. It is the unceasingly slow drip of sadness that causes me to become still, and inevitably stagnant, from the unending disturbance that sits disturbed just underneath the surface.

I cry out from the depths, “Help me–I’m sinking.”

I feel the One, who holds me close in my dark state, whisper to my heart, “Hold on.” So, I hold tight to Him as I struggle to keep my head above the stagnancy.

How priceless is your unfailing love, O God! People take refuge in the shadow of your wings.

They feast on the abundance of your house; you give them drink from your river of delights.

For with you is the fountain of life; in your light we see light. Psalm 36:7-9 NIV